


I'm Coming, Wait for Me

by Wickedrider98



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: #HugJonSims2019 but it's sad, Angst, Bad Ending, Elias Bouchard is a Rat Bastard, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), It's not a happy one folks, M/M, One (1) very brief mention of blood, So I made do, Suicidal Intentions, Tagging just to make sure, Talk of Dying, Unhappy Ending, also I know the mummy shouldn't be there, and then realized it too late, but I put it in before I realized it, kind of?, orpheus and eurydice au, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 03:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedrider98/pseuds/Wickedrider98
Summary: Martin attempts to rescue Jon from the Beholding's Nightmare Hellscape, but things don't go as smoothly as planned.





	I'm Coming, Wait for Me

The hospital room rang with a deafening silence as Martin sat at Jon’s side, gripping his cold, limp hand.  
“Jon, Jon please come back. We need you here.”  
Martin swallowed.  
“I need you here.”  
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Martin took it out to see a text from his new boss.  
_We don’t have time for this Martin_, it read, _I can’t sit around waiting for your decision._  
Martin cursed under his breath. Peter had vaguely described his plans for what sounded like stopping a ritual of another Power, and proceeded to badger him incessantly for the last month. Yet another message popped up while Martin was thinking of a reply.  
_Remember what I told you._  
Martin shuddered, the Interim Head of the Institute’s words buzzing in his head. Jon wouldn’t wake up, Peter had said, not ever. Martin didn’t want to believe it. Even now as he stared at the flatlined monitors hooked up to his boss, Martin still clung to the tiny shard of hope that one day he’d enter the dreary hospital room to find Jon awake. Anger bubbled in Martin’s gut as he furiously tapped out his reply.  
_You would have a response sooner if you just let me be. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Give me some space._  
He put his phone on silent, shoved it back into his pocket, and resumed his vigil while quietly mumbling to Jon’s body. Nothing of substance, just lines from a poem he thought he’d forgotten about. It was more out of habit than anything, a nervous tick he’d picked up as a child.  
Some hours into fumbling over verses Martin felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He turned to see a nurse smiling sympathetically down at him.  
“Love, you need to go home,” she murmured. “Visiting hours are over.”  
“But I-”  
The nurse cut him off with a shake of her head. “You need to take care of yourself; your boyfriend wouldn’t want to hear that you ran yourself ragged on his account.”  
Martin’s brain froze on the word ‘boyfriend’. The way everyone just assumed they were together during this entire ordeal had been welcomed, sometimes he even liked to pretend it was true. But reality wasn’t that kind.  
“Oh, no we aren’t-” Martin stuttered, stopped himself, and sighed. “Alright. I’ll be gone in a moment.”  
She nodded and left. Martin gently patted Jon’s arm before getting up to leave.  
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. “Goodnight Jon. Sleep well.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Martin tried to focus on the poem he’d begun to scribble out, but it was impossible. His mind kept drifting to Jon, alone in that hospital room, seeing God only knows what while stuck in a limbo between living and dead.  
Martin stared at the cup of now-lukewarm tea he’d made hours ago, and began to absentmindedly stir the brown sludge. He couldn’t keep going on like this. He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life pining for a dead man. At some point he’d have to move on with his life.  
Martin groaned and shut the battered composition notebook. Carrying these heavy issues in his mind didn’t leave much space for creativity. His dishes could wait, and besides, he was exhausted. Martin flopped onto his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas, and pulled his weighted gray blanket over his body. A tidal wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he gave in to sleep.

______________________________________________________________________________

Martin blinked, mind hazy, and propped himself up on his elbow as he examined his surroundings. A thick gray mist surrounded him, blocking his view.  
_Is this what it feels like to be claimed by The Lonely?_ he thought. _Is this Peter trying to force me to make a decision?_  
“I can assure you this is not Peter’s doing.” A voice cut into his mind. Martin turned to see the former Head of the Magnus Institute stepping out of the haze, his cold blue eyes glaring his way. “Hello, Martin.”  
“Elias!?” Martin jumped to his feet in an instant. “What are you doing here? I don’t want you in my dreams!”  
“And I don’t want to be in your dreams. But unfortunately, It seemed to think you were the best choice.”  
“‘It’?” Martin asked. “Who’s ‘It’? And what am I the best choice for?”  
“Are we going to play Twenty Questions or can I continue?”  
Martin groaned. Same Elias, even in this dreamscape.  
“Say your piece,” he grumbled.  
“I think I may know how to get Jon out of his coma,” Elias explained, “and it involves you.”  
“How do…” A sharp look from Elias cut him off mid-sentence. “Alright.”  
“Right now, we stand at the edge of Jon’s dreamscape. If you were to walk that way, you would find where he’s trapped. The Eye is keeping him there until he makes a choice to live or die. I know where you can enter without too much trouble. However, beyond that, I can’t promise you safety from The Eye or its protector’s gaze. You will have to confront it, and you will have to convince it to grant you the chance to even see The Archivist.”  
“You’re being awfully helpful.” Martin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”  
“Jon is vital to The Eye, I want him alive as badly as you do,” Elias explained. “Personally I think giving him any choice in the matter is absurd, but It thinks you might be able to help.”  
“We- I could bring him back?”  
“Possibly. What do you say?”  
Martin hesitated. He wanted Jon back—wanted it with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t justify dragging a man who didn’t want to live as the Avatar of a Malevolent Fear God back into the land of the living. Besides, any plan involving Elias and the Eye was not to be trusted. Even so, the prospect of seeing Jon again, even if it would only be in this dreamscape, made Martin’s heart flutter. Whether or not he returned was ultimately Jon’s choice, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to at least try. After a few long moments of consideration, Martin nodded.  
“I’ll do it, but I’m not doing it for you. And if Jon doesn’t want to come back,” Martin’s voice cracked, “I won’t force him.”  
“All I’m asking is for you to try. Come along.”  
Elias began walking. Martin followed a few feet behind, searching for any signs of life but finding nothing but waves of ivory smoke cascading in thick billows around them. After an eternity, the mist thickened and appeared as a wall. Martin reached out to touch it, but his hand went through without any resistance.  
“This is it,” Elias announced. “The edge of the dreams of The Archivist.”  
“And I just... Go through?” Martin’s voice wavered.  
“Indeed.”  
“Why are you doing this?”  
Elias’ eyes glinted.  
“Because prison isn't the most entertaining place, and I don’t think you’ll be able to do it.”  
Martin scowled.  
“And however boring, I see prison hasn’t changed you a bit,” he muttered.  
“Besides,” Elias continued as if Martin hadn’t said anything at all, “Jon wasn’t exactly a popular man, and you’re the only one who didn’t hate him.”  
“You’re talking about him like he’s already dead.”  
“Which should show how much faith I have in you. But It seemed to think that you were the best chance we had at bringing him back. The Eye has a bit of a flare for drama, you might say.”  
“That’s putting it lightly.”  
Elias’ gaze shuttered, eyes narrowing in an icy stare.  
“Just get moving,” he snarled.  
Martin took a cautious step forward but stopped before he could make it through. A chasm had opened deep in his stomach, and a voice in his head screamed that this was going to be all for naught.  
“I only have tonight to do this and we’ve already wasted four hours, but please Martin take your time.”  
The pit in Martin’s stomach filled with a white, hot anger, geared directly at Elias.  
I’ll show him, he thought, determination crashing over him like a wave. Without another word to Elias, Martin stormed forward, pushing through the mist and finding himself in the dreamscape of the man he loved.  
Cold stone manifested beneath his feet, and Martin recognized that he was in the tunnels below the Archives. He took a deep breath and walked forward, navigating the twists and turns of the labyrinth with an ease that suggested he knew where he was going.  
At first, Martin didn’t understand what he was looking at when he came to the classroom. Its tables were arranged in a half circle, hearts laying on sterile metal trays, beating sporadically. Rivulets of red trickled from them and pooled on the floor, staining the white tiles a deep crimson. At the center stood a man, tall, bearded, and wearing a lab coat. His eyes locked on Martin as he passed, silently begging for release. Martin pressed on, even as the man reached out to him and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a scream. In his hand was an apple, and a chill ran up Martin’s spine. It had been a few years, but he knew he’d seen this man in the Institute, delivering a statement to Jon in person. He still remembered how flustered the professor had been after coming out of the Head Archivist’s Office, muttering angrily about how Jon hadn’t believed him. Martin tried to push the thought from his mind as he continued.  
Keeping his composure in this hell was harder than he thought it would be, especially while trying not to make eye contact with the desperate, pleading faces of previous statement givers who were trapped here same as Jon.  
“Feelings that come over me hurt in a new and different way  
Emotions I can’t name swirl through my brain  
A hurricane of dread  
Reaping havoc on my brain  
Feeling as though there’s a weight on my back  
Smothering me  
Crushing me  
Consuming me  
Keeping me from standing  
Leaving me a shaking mess on the ground

And just like that it’s over  
Gone as quickly as it came on  
I try to calm myself  
Let it run its course  
And slowly  
I stand  
I realize I’m here  
I’m alive  
I’m still here  
It hasn’t gotten the best of me yet  
And for the first time in many long, agonizing moments  
I breathe.” Nerves choked the stanzas that flowed from Martin’s lips as his steps faltered.  
It wasn’t until he heard the snarl that he truly started to acknowledge his fear.  
Martin turned to see something that may have once been a human being, but was now nothing more than brittle, dead skin stretched over a skeleton. It stared at him through scratched empty eye sockets. By its side stood a figure in long black robes, a singular acidic green eye staring unblinking at him from beneath its hood. Martin remembered something about one of Gertrude’s old tapes, a statement about a robed figure discovered beneath the Alexandria archives in Egypt—one that left Gertrude wondering if it had been a previous Archivist.  
The desiccated mummy, however, had been found in an illegal archeological dig that belonged to The End. Martin wondered why the creature had appeared here, only to remember that Jon was stuck between life and death, refusing to choose. It was fitting then that The End would have a representative here, in a way... though Martin had trouble believing The Eye would allow it.  
“H-hello,” Martin stammered. “I-I’ve come for Jon. For The Archivist.”  
“The Archivist stays here,” the mummy hissed. The hooded figure put a hand in front of its counterpart as it started to edge towards him, revealing impossibly long fingers that reminded Martin of the being that called itself ‘Michael’.  
_What my ineloquent associate is trying to say_, a deep voice rang in Martin’s head, _is that The Archivist is to stay with us until he makes his choice._  
“P-please.” Martin’s voice wavered. “I need to try. I need to take him back.”  
“No!” The animated corpse strained against its companion’s arm, itching to be turned loose on this pathetic intruder.  
_I’m afraid that’s not possible._  
The hooded figure slowly lowered its hand, and Martin understood. This was why The Eye allowed The End’s representative in this place. These two were the protectors. They had no intention of letting Jon leave, or letting Martin wake up.  
He could feel his breath growing quicker and shallower as the mummy moved towards him. Panic engulfed him. Death in a dream wouldn’t mean death in real life, would it? He couldn’t die here, not when there were so many people relying on him. His blood ran cold as the mummy lurched towards him, its nonexistent lips pulled back in a snarl.  
Martin put his arms over his face in a pathetic attempt at protecting himself, and began to quietly recite poetry, as he’d always done when he was nervous. His mind drifted back to the work in progress he had attempted to write before bed.  
“Pale unsmiling eyes  
Green like sea foam.  
He has no idea how they make my heart race  
the moment they focus on me,” his words flowed from him,,” Martin murmured under his breath.When he found nothing coming, he spared a glance for the two watchers. The mummy had stopped walking towards him, and the hooded figure was now regarding him intently.  
“D-do you like it?” Martin asked. Nothing but silence met his tentative question, but he took the fact that he was still alive as a ‘yes’. Taking a deep breath, he continued.  
“A storm of emotions hide behind his gaze  
The shower sadness pouring from clouds of regret,  
A crashing thunder of fear and flashes of lightning self-loathing.  
My attempts to reassure him fall on deaf ears,  
They drown in the flood of sorrow and loneliness before he hears.

I wish to bring light to that gaze,  
To push away the darkness that plagues him.  
He deserves to see the beauty of the world,  
And to finally rest in the sunlight..”  
He watched the two creatures as he spoke. The mummy had backed off, its head swiveling from the hooded figure to Martin. The figure turned, and motioned with its inhuman hand for him to follow.  
_Come,_ the voice in his head commanded.The living corpse that was now flanking him loosed a deep growl. Martin sighed and did as he was told.  
As the trio walked, Martin began to notice they were moving farther and farther away from the dreamscape, and closer to a large hill of black grass. When they reached the base, the figure motioned for Martin to continue. He nodded, gathered up what courage he had left, and began to climb. These two cryptic figures could have been leading him to his death; Martin didn’t know why he trusted them not to, but he climbed nonetheless.  
He wasn't sure how he hadn't taken notice of the unblinking Eye staring down at this hellscape from above until he had reached the top of the hill. The swirling kaleidoscope of green, blue, and brown in its iris made his head spin, hard to look at directly Before long, Martin came back to himself and stared into its giant black pupil instead.  
_Welcome Martin Blackwood._ A deep, rumbling voice rang within his thoughts.  
“Is this how all of you talk?” Martin asked his observer.  
_We don't exactly have mouths._  
“I've come for the Archivist,” he continued. “I want to take him away from this place.”  
_You are brave to venture here by yourself,_ The Eye responded. _When my servant approached you I was not so sure you would follow his instructions._  
Martin wrinkled his nose. “I'm not doing this for Elias,” He insisted.  
_I know you aren't._  
Martin groaned. “Of course you do.”  
_I know that you love my Archivist, Martin,_ the Eye continued, _but even if I were to allow you to leave with him I cannot guarantee that he would even want to come with you._  
“I thought you knew everything.”  
_I know many things, but his wish to live or to die changes every day._  
“Just let me try, please.”  
_You've suffered greatly Martin, and I won't add to it this time. You subdued my guardians with your words, so show me what you showed them._  
Martin hesitated  
_If you succeed, I will let you try to take him._  
“Okay.”  
He took in a deep breath and began.  
“Sometimes I wish I could keep him from destroying himself,  
Keep him close to me,  
Safe in my embrace. 

The world is unkind to him,  
The pale scars on his body paint a pale illustration of suffering.  
How I wish that I could make them disappear,  
And erase the associated memories from his head.

He tries to pretend it doesn’t affect him,  
But we see how much it has.  
The way he flinches at the slightest sound,  
And shies away from even the most gentle touch.

I wish he would allow me to stay by his side  
And allow me to protect him.  
His world is dark and difficult,  
And I want to reduce his struggles.  
I can’t keep him free from every trial I know,  
But I try,  
I wish,  
I hope,  
One day I can save him from this life.” 

The Eye stared at him when he finished, unblinking.  
_Elias was right. You are mediocre at best._  
“What a way to kick me while I’m down,” Martin muttered.  
_I wasn’t finished,_ it continued. _You are mediocre at best, but your passion for my Archivist is obvious. I’ll allow you try and convince him to leave with you.___  
“I...really!?”  
_Again, I wasn’t finished. Really, you must work on that. You may try to convince my Archivist to leave, but I do have a condition. You are a poet, I assume you’re familiar with the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice?_  
Martin’s heart sank.  
“Yes…”  
_Should you manage to convince him to leave, you must walk in front of him. You will be unable to hear anything he says, and you cannot look back to see if he is behind you. If you do, he will be unable to leave with you, and you will be unable to return. Few who enter this place are allowed to exit Martin, don’t think that my leniency will extend to a second visit. Do you accept these conditions?_  
“I do.”  
_Good. I do wish you luck Martin, The Archivist is of far more use to me alive than he is dead._  
“I...thank you?”  
The scene around Martin changed until he was back in the same place he had met The Eye's guardians in, on the seemingly endless road of pavement, slick with the remnants of a downpour. Ahead, Martin could make out a figure. He was thinner than he'd been when Martin had seen him in the hospital that day. The same jumper and slacks he'd worn when they left for the Unknowing hung loosely off his body, but there was no mistaking—  
“Jon!” Martin called out. The Archivist turned, his deep grey eyes wide.  
“Martin?” He asked, genuine shock in his voice. When he realized this wasn’t some horrible illusion caused by the Eye he began to walk towards him, “Martin!”  
Martin’s feet were moving without his notice, and the two met halfway. Despite the darkness of his situation, Jon’s eyes shone bright with joy. His heart sank as he realized this was the first time Jon had seen someone who wasn’t reliving their nightmares since the Unknowing.  
“How did you get here?” Jon asked, concern washed over his face. “You're not..?”  
“No,” Martin responded. “Perfectly alive. Just asleep. I was brought here by Elias. And I've come to bring you back!”  
Jon's smile faded.  
“I can't,” he replied, moving away.  
“Yes you can! I spoke to the Eye, it said-”  
“No. I can't, Martin.”  
“You can't stay here for the rest of your life!”  
Jon’s eyes grew dark before fixing his gaze on the ground.  
“I'm not staying here.”  
Martin could feel his heart snap when he realized what Jon meant.  
“Jon…” his voice wavered, “you can’t…”  
“I can't go back in good conscience. I've been the reason we've lost so many people, and I won't be the cause of more deaths. This world is filled with monsters, it doesn't need another one.”  
Martin gently touched his arm.  
“You are not a monster Jon. You're as human as you were when you started working at the Institute.” He ignored Jon's rueful snort. “It's not your fault. Not Sasha, not Tim, not Daisy. Not anyone. We all made our own choice. And besides, you saved the world.”  
“Tim saved the world while I lost track of reality. And a fat lot of good it did him.”  
Martin sighed.  
“Look, I won't force you to come back. If you want to… then I guess I can't stop you. But I believe that the world will be a better place, better off, with you in it. You're a good man Jon, I- we need you out there.”  
Martin enveloped him in a hug as the tears started to flow. Jon buried his face his chest,allowing Martin to gently stroke his hair.  
“I'm scared, Martin,” he whimpered into Martin’s shirt.  
“I know,” he whispered. “But I-I'll protect you.”  
“If I go back, I won’t be the one you knew. The Eye will have a hold on me, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to fight it.”  
“I know, but you won’t have to fight it alone, Jon. You’ll have me. I won’t leave your side, no matter how bad things get. I promise.”  
“After everything I've done...” Jon’s voice cracked, “After how horribly I treated you at the start…”  
Martin began to rub small circles into his back as he cried harder, balling up the fabric of Martin’s sweater in his fists.  
“It’s alright, Jon,” he kept his voice low, “you’re alright.”  
The Archivist’s sobs gradually grew softer, before he straightened and wiped his wet eyes on his sleeve.  
“Well,” he sighed, “I guess… we should get going then?”  
Martin's heart fluttered.  
“Does that mean..?”  
“Yes. I'm willing to try. Now let's go.”  
Jon grabbed his hand and began walking down the road towards where Martin had come from with a newfound determination.  
“Jon, wait,” Martin ordered. The Archivist stopped and turned back.  
“The Eye had one condition to me freeing you.”  
“Which was?”  
“I have to walk in front of you. I won't be able to hear anything you say, and I can't look back to see if you're there until we're out of this place.”  
Jon let go of Martin's hand and released an angry sigh. He composed himself, then nodded slowly.  
“Very well,” he accepted, resolute. “Lead the way.”  
“I'll see you on the other side?”  
“Of course.”  
Martin stood beside Jon for a moment longer, watching him, hope swelling in his chest. He let it show with a tiny, cautious smile, and when Jon returned it, Martin knew that this would work.  
He gathered himself and began taking cautious steps forward, back down the way he had come from when he'd encountered the Eye’s Protectors. Silence hung eerily in the air like a tangible mantle, as if the entire dreamscape were watching, waiting to see if the two of them could really make it out. The most unnerving part was Martin couldn't even hear Jon's footsteps behind him.  
“The Eye wasn't lying when it said I wouldn't be able to hear you,” Martin announced. “I wonder if you can hear me. I… I think I'll talk as if you can, maybe it'll help keep me calm.”  
He pressed on, past the man drowning in ants and the woman who was slowly eating her computer's keyboard. Even as Martin passed, he couldn't hear the unnervingly familiar crunch of plastic keys being ground away as he had the first time. It was as though the world were frozen around him.  
“B-burning the statements worked, Jon,” he continued, trying to push the fear from his voice. “Melanie was able to find the tapes. Elias is in prison now.”  
A shudder ran up his spine as he remembered exactly how much that plan had cost him.  
“Peter Lukas, he runs the Institute now…”  
_He has to be behind me,_ Martin told himself. _He wanted to try, he wanted to get out. He has to be._  
“I'm guessing you'll want a statement about my conversation with the Eye.” he tried to pretend his voice wasn't trembling. “Just give me a few days, alright? It was a bit of a rattling experience.”  
They were back in the classroom now, the hearts still pumping scarlet liquid onto the floor. The end was so close, Martin could feel it. Just a little farther, and he would be able to turn and see Jon. Tomorrow, Jon would be free of that hellscape, he’d be awake. He’d be okay.  
_Unless he only told you he was willing to try in order to get you to leave,_ a voice in the back of his head hissed. _He turned back as soon as you started walking. He decided he liked the alternative better._  
“You’re lying,” he murmured. “I know it.”  
_Do you?_  
He had reached the tunnels.  
_He’s not there._  
The wall was in sight.  
_You’re going to be heartbroken._  
Martin pushed through the mist.  
_He decided to die rather than come back with you._  
“No!”  
Before he could regain his senses, Martin whirled around and found himself staring into Jon’s hurt eyes.  
“Martin…” he murmured as the mist started to close around him.  
“Jon!” Martin lunged towards him. “Jon no! Please! I’m sorry! I-”  
The mist slammed shut, removing Jon from his view. Martin tried to run through it, but slammed hard into the mist—as if it were made of brick.  
“Let me back in!” He screamed as he pounded on the barrier. “Let me in!”  
He sank to the ground in front of it, tears flowing from his eyes. Though he was out of The Eye’s realm, Martin could hear its voice in his mind as clear as he had in it.  
_I warned you._  
“No,” Martin whispered. “No please…”  
Behind him, he could hear Elias laughing, entertained by Martin’s moment of weakness.  
“I knew it!”  
“NO!” Martin woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright in his bed. He took a few gasping breaths as he tried to process what he had seen.  
He had gone into The Eye’s world, he’d navigated that hellscape and convinced The Beholding to let him rescue Jon, and then he’d thrown it all away because his trust had faltered. Jon could’ve been freed from nightmares—he could’ve woken up and returned to Martin, but no. Martin had thrown it all away in a moment of self-doubt. What was going to happen to Jon now? He was still trapped in that hell, possibly forever. Or maybe he wouldn’t go back. Maybe he took his other option and…  
Martin shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but it was impossible. No matter what he chose, Jon was gone and it was all Martin’s fault. His hand reached out to grab his phone from his nightstand, blindly feeling around the smooth wood until he found it. His numb fingers dialed the number of the Institute and he put the phone to his ear.  
“Hello, Magnus Institute.” Rosie’s voice chirruped. “How can I help you?”  
“Rosie? It’s Martin.”  
The receptionist didn’t ask why he was calling, she didn’t have to. She knew who Martin would want to talk to.  
“Let me put you through.”  
Martin gathered his thoughts as the smooth holding music played.  
“Ah, Martin!” Peter was also cheerful, though from him it felt less friendly. “What can I do for you?”  
“I’ll do it.” Martin tried to ignore his stomach dropping. “I’ll be a part of whatever this plan of yours is.”  
Even over the phone Martin could tell Peter was smiling. The knowledge gave him chills.  
“Excellent.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Rusty Quill Big Bang 2019, and I'm super lucky to have some incredible digital art from [CrystalRequiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalrequiem)found [here](https://twitter.com/requiemjunkie/status/1161405181759754240?s=20) and an awesome animation from[AsexualArchivist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsexualArchivist/profile) found [here](https://asexualarchivist.tumblr.com/post/186949498630/my-big-bang-piece-for-vigilo-operior-audio-s)! If you want to see more of their art check out CrystalRequiem [here](https://twitter.com/requiemjunkie) on Twitter and AsexualArchivist [here](https://asexualarchivist.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! Also a HUGE thank you to [Kyky25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyky25/pseuds/Kyky25) and CrystalRequiem for being my beta readers for this piece, this wouldn't have turned out nearly as well if it wasn't for your help!! ((Also the title is definitely a Hadestown lyric))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I'm Coming, Wait for Me [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535654) by [Cryke_Audio (Crykea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crykea/pseuds/Cryke_Audio)


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